The Road Not Taken
by mandy-somebody
Summary: My life is my choice - Thoughts and stories by our intrepid heroes. Features the Connor's extended family reflecting the story through their own personalities. Set somewhere along season 2. Now finished!
1. The Self Destruct Button

_I wanted to write short one-shots that would eventually form a longer story. I'm not entirely sure about the bigger picture yet, so feedback is appreciated :)_

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**The Self-Destruct Button**

Sometimes you wish you'd have a self-destruct button on you. That way, when everything's fucked up, you could just let it go. Push the button. Close your eyes. Let it go. Never have to deal with anything again. When the pressure gets to you, push the button. When you're too afraid to wait for the future to screw you over, push the button. When you wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, panting and your heart beating the crap out of you, push the button. And the nights that you can't sleep at all, although you haven't slept in ages and you desperately want to sleep, need to sleep but can't… Push the button.

"Mr. Baum, wake up!" The sound of Mrs. Evans voice is sharp and it hits your brain knocking your cortex unconscious. I'm thinking she must have years of practice.

Snapping to reality, I have no idea what time it is. This is you, drooling in front of the class. Now, all eyes on me. I'm trying to get myself together. The desk jerks and makes a squeaky sound. The back row must be up to speed right now.

You know, for a while after waking up, you're disorientated. Maybe you don't know where you are. Maybe the concept of time is lost on you. You see the clock, you see the hands pointing numbers but you're a five-year-old who can't connect the dots. That's waking up from delta sleep. The stage three or four, the last phase of sleep.

What the teacher is saying right now, I know the words but they add up to jibberish.

I know where I am though. This is English literature, 3rd floor, right after lunch. Right after two cheese sandwiches. Right after a coca cola. It still tastes the same it did seven years ago. But on this side of the Y2K, everything is 'zero' now. Zero sugar, zero calories, zero nutritional value.

And yes, the concept of time is lost on me, but that's nothing new. Try time-traveling through a couple of years and you'd be confused too. It does things like that to a person. Try it, I dare you.

The whole class listening, I'm blushing and thinking something clever to say. Save myself. I wouldn't get out of trouble but at least I wouldn't look like such an idiot. Which is probably too late.

People around me swallowing their laughter. Definitely too late.

Right now, I'm the new kid again. Standing in front of the class, embarrassed and scared. Being introduced with a name that is not mine. Already eyeing for an unoccupied desk while being weighed and measured by the crowd in front of me. Being examined piece by piece. Every bruise and stain analyzed and noted.

She's articulating her words like she is talking to a child. Telling a child off to the naughty corner. She's really addressing the class, not me. Definitely years of practice.

People around me throw sneery glances. I wished the ground would swallow me right now.

I can't open my mouth to save me.

She says, "Let me brief you."

I'm thinking what would Derek do. Or mom. I'm thinking it's such a cliché that everything is supposed to change after high school. That it gets better. They say, don't worry. Just wait and see.

Only I know the world as we know it will end. So technically no, it doesn't get any better. This right now, is as good as it gets. How motivating.

She says, "Had you attended any of the previous classes, or been at least awake when you decide to show up, you'd know that this class has been looking into American poets. We, all of us here, have been educating ourselves. May I ask you what you have been doing, Mr. Baum?"

People struggling not to laugh out loud. The German have a word for it: _Schadenfreude_. Taking pleasure of the misfortune of others. Getting humiliated in front of your peers.

What have I been doing? The things that come to mind are the things I shouldn't say.

The German have a word for it: Fehlleistung. When you think you're saying something along the lines 'I've been busy researching the declaration of human rights where it says that no man should be subjected to degrading treatment' but instead of that you say 'fighting robots'.

In my head I'm telling myself, don't say chasing bad guys. Don't say cyborgs. Don't say stopping computer program taking over the world.

If you can't tell the truth, maybe it's better to be quiet. Right now, I'm doing excellent job at that.

And I'm thinking the German have a lot of words.

And I'm thinking evolution and Darwinism. Whether it is possible to develop a self-destruct button over the next millenium. Like an extra arm.

And then I'm thinking, we don't really need to grow one. Jump a couple of years to the future, and we've already found a way to get ourselves destroyed.

I know they're rolling their eyes right now. What a retard.

Just close your eyes. Push the button.

She's saying I won't pass this course. No way.

I say, like it matters.

She's saying detention. My after school special.

In my head, I push the button twice.


	2. Every Day Is a One Day Closer

**Every Day Is a One Day Closer**

Stability is overrated. But I wouldn't know. Life is a nonstop rollercoaster. One rise and fall after another. And when you think it's over, it's not. It just starts again and again. And I should know - this is my second time around. The extra ride I didn't pay for.

Jesse is there waiting. Stirring her decaf and enjoying the sunshine. Wearing those big shades that hide the fact that she's keeping a close eye on everyone. A good soldier does that. Notices everything, attracts no attention, shoots without asking.

I don't smile but my heart flutters for a brief moment. It's either arrhythmia or my cardiac muscle is just glad to see her.

The difference between us is that she can enjoy the moment. Right there, she's sitting, waiting for me, knowing that this coffee house, this whole city will be a setting for a showdown. And people will die, oceans of people. And yet, she's letting the sun shine on her face like she has all the time in the world.

Me, I don't live for the present. I live for the future. This moment is being prepared for the next one. Because every day is a one day closer.

That's what's between us.

"Took you long enough", she nods me to sit down. I'd rather stand but I sit anyway.

Her hair reflects the sunshine, but I don't notice that. I don't notice how good she looks tanned. I don't.

"You're awfully gloomy today." She forces a smile but isn't smiling.

"It's been one of those days." I say. I guess I'm tired. I must look tired. I am tired.

This is us, our days of hunting the people to save, the people to kill, the machines to destroy. And the machines hunting us. Just a step behind. Today, I'm an 11-year-old watching over his baby brother. Today, I'm also the 32-year-old fighting the machines and watching over a troubled teenager. Who is a decade older than me in the future, and now a decade younger. I guess time is relative.

She sips her coffee and slides a brown envelope to my side of the table. What I came to pick up. She takes off her shades. For a second there I'm having a heart attack again.

"Derek. You're running on fumes." She looks at me. "And you can't run forever."

This is what's between us.

I tell her, I can't stop running.

She shouldn't either. We stop running and we die.

She sighs, she can't make me understand. I can't make her understand.

Sure, she makes the moments mean something, but after that, it's reality. It's like with all the other good things. How at sunset, it's warm and beautiful and then the next minute, it's dark and cold again. Things that matter are only good for awhile and then, few minutes later they don't count anymore.

She looks at me. Really looks at me. I don't know what she's seeing.

I know I don't want to see myself in her eyes. The way I don't want to look into the mirror anymore.

I lean in and kiss her.

To avoid eye contact, I kiss her.


	3. Crash Course in Polite Conversation

_A little Note: I've tried to write these pieces so they could be read as individual shots, so they might not make much sense right now ;) I'll promise to write something funnier for Cameron next time ;)_

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**Crash Course in Polite Conversation**

I'm telling you this particular story in a way no one else can. That's because I'm the only one who was there and who is still alive.

It was a day like any other day. It was a Wednesday, but it doesn't matter. All the days are the same for me. After a meaningless job number one was over, it was time for a meaningless job number two. It's laundry or ironing, cleaning or babysitting an empty house. That or kicking someone in the chest so hard their ribs break. That was my meaningless job number three.

In China, they send their kids to learn martial arts. These kids are no more than 4 or 5 years old. Little toddlers learning how to hit each other. But it's not fighting. It's not sports. You don't necessarily need those skills to survive. You don't need to know 27 different ways to kill a man with a spoon. They say it's a way of life. It's art. It's a state of mind. It's being calm and relaxed in dangerous and extreme situations. Thinking your soul is the soul of a bird or a snake. You're delivering lethal attacks and thinking what's on TV tonight.

I'm not thinking what's on TV tonight. I'm thinking if I have a soul it's the soul of a caged tiger.

They say, talk to him, find out what he knows. But really they mean, throw him off the roof. They don't say it, but why else would they have me doing it. You don't send a machine to do your job unless you don't want to do it.

You know, you're still responsible.

The downside with humans, well, there are many, but it's the fact that after they die, they tend to be very quiet. And the biggest downside is that they die very easily.

People are messy when they bleed. They make the floor sticky.

He's begging me to stop but when I stop he doesn't tell me what I want to hear. I need a name and an address, I shout. He says, I don't know, I only heard his voice, I swear, please.

A martyr is a person, who is willing to suffer and die for the sake of his belief. Who is willing to die before he'd open his mouth. I've met them before.

Precious little soldiers. Angels on their shoulders.

They'll stand up when no one else will. And with their last breath, they'll try to make it harder for you. Martyrs are cunning like that. Maybe it's because they know they're going to die. They're facing the darkness and staring it down. Death is the 'get out of jail free' card.

Yes, I've met them before. But I don't want to talk about it. Not really. I don't want to talk about them, so stop asking questions. I'll never tell you. Never.

I won't.

Every religion has martyrs, but there are none in this room right now, me included. Everyone has a breaking point. At least after many points have already been broken.

This is the moment when you tell the truth. Tell me what I want to hear. Agony is replaced with relief. Your arms go limp and your muscles tremble. Your spinal cord is giving up. Nerve cells are tired. The fatigue screws up the connections. This is you after running a marathon. Out of breath, muscles sore but you're relieved. You survived this. You're not very smart are you?

I say, thank you.

I say, I'm sorry.

Well, sort of.


	4. Morning Glory

**Morning Glory**

The kitchen table has become our mission control center. This is our post where we casually clean our guns, eat breakfast and talk about our next move in the war against Skynet. Today, Derek has found a name on our list. No, not really, if only it was that easy. It's not easy chasing people on our list. It's finding the murderers before the crime is committed. Knowing the traitor before he opens his mouth.

It's difficult, at best.

He stays out of the house more, following leads, he says. I have no reason to doubt him, but I have no reason trust him either. But he gets information. He brings files and names. This name, today, is not on our list. It's a name that will lead to a name that will end up on our list.

I said, it's difficult. At best.

A cell phone on the kitchen counter rings. The ringtone is a simple melody, something from the default soundlist. I look at the phone, and then look at Derek. He's examining the papers he brought home in a brown envelope. I've seen them already. The phone goes silent. I turn to finish the pancakes.

Pancakes are actually quite easy to make. You just need some flour, some baking powder, salt, an egg, milk and butter. Mix everything in a bowl, scoop the batter onto a frying pan. And you're done.

Note to self: the temperature should be at 375 degrees. Or something.

You can mix in the milk past its sell date or those eggs you bought ages ago. I wouldn't be surprised if one day I opened the fridge and had a dozen little chicks calling me mommy.

The phone rings again.

John rushes to the kitchen. He throws his backpack on the floor. "Dude, your cell!"

To me he says, "what's for breakfast". I smile, "Good morning to you too".

I try to kiss him on his forehead but he makes a face and escapes my grip.

Cameron is there too, waiting in the doorway. Watching, no, not watching. Observing.

"Pancakes." I say to John. I'm thinking how our 'morning glory – breakfast' sure looks funny but I don't say it aloud.

Derek raises his head, "I'll just have coffee." Right now, he's somewhere in his own little head, not in this world.

"I'll eat at school." John squints looking at me and looking at the soon-to-be-ready pancakes.

How charming.

Note to self: Buy more eggs. And milk.

The phone rings again.

"Derek!" I shout over the ringtone.

He looks at me with an indifferent look on his face. "What?"

"Your cell phone's been ringing off the hook all morning!" I shout.

The first pancakes are always the worst. Now I'm shoveling the soon-to-be-in-a-trash-can pancakes out of my sight. This is just a setback, the next patch will be perfect.

The ringtone is leaving a permanent mark in my eardrums.

Note to self: Get rid of phones. Acquire carrier pigeons.

"I'm a popular guy!" He doesn't bother to look at me. Apparently he's also too popular to answer his own calls.

I take the phone and press the green button. "Hello?"

This spikes Derek to move. An electric shock type of reaction.

He grabs the phone and leaves the room.

I turn to John, "We've got some errands to run, Cameron will have to play hookie today."

"Okay", he sits down at the table. "You could've told me sooner though, I wouldn't have stayed up studying all night."

Yeah, "studying".

"Oh no," I correct him. "You're going to school."

This is the part where he says no, he's coming with us. I can't exclude him from being part of this.

And I already know how this conversation is going to play out.

He says, I can't fight his battles for him.

I'm thinking, I know I can't, but as long as I'm alive, I will try.

And he says school is boring, and school is useless. There are more important things than school. Mom please.

This right here is pleading.

I'll go to school tomorrow, he says. Next week, I'll make up for all the classes I missed.

This right here is bargaining.

You NEED to let me have my life. You NEED to let me make my own decisions. My own mistakes.

This right here is me me me first.

The lead role. The spotlight.

The essence of a teenager.

I love him to bits, but he is going to school today. And I tell him that.

"Fine!" He grunts. "I'll be late. I've got detention."

My mouth drops. This is just defiant. I want to ground him for life but I don't. Would it be too hard to just play along? Not to make it any harder as it already is? This fake family, fake name and a fake house. We're trying to survive.

But really, I'm not mad at him. These little fights. These arguments. He is still my baby. He is a teenager, that's what he is. But that's okay. That's more than okay. He is not a soldier. Not yet.

"In the future," Cameron joins the conversation. "They keep the animals in cages to protect them. They do it now too, a lot of species only exist in cages. But a cage is still a cage."

John looks at her. I look at her.

She says, "Do you think death is the same for everyone?"

John is quiet, he's reaching for a pancake pardoned from the trash can.

"And what does that got to do with anything?" I ask.

"Nothing." She shrugs. "I thought you were finished."

I turn my back at her and roll my eyes. I'm thinking she's a liability. She will get us killed some day.

John is eating pancakes. My pancakes. I'd like to think this is his way to say I'm sorry. And I'm sorry too.

I ask, "You want brown or green juice with that?"

"What's the difference?" He asks.

"Three weeks."

He laughs.

* * *

The phone is ringing. Again and again. I'm looking through the papers. These people. Kill them now, or kill them later. I say kill them now. This is our only chance to get it right. The second chance. We won't get a third one. We blow this now and it's over. To make sure, get it done properly. No point waiting whether this time something gives and everything will change. If nothing changes this time, nothing will ever change. We need to force our way trough. We need to create a new future for us. There are always casualties at war. Always.

The phone rings.

This guy, this nobody, is all the information I have. How does he link to all of this, I have no idea. I'm thinking, this is just a stepping stone to the real target. This guy, this nobody, will be a casualty in this war. That's the way it goes.

The phone rings.

Sarah shouts at me. Block the noise. This invisible wall. John's awake, the metal right behind him.

Hate is too mild a word to describe my feelings towards her.

But I love that kid. I do. He drives me nuts, but I love him.

Sarah drives me nuts too but I love her all the same.

The kitchen smells weird.

If you don't eat the food Sarah cooks, the food eats you.

But I'll stick with coffee right now. I need to get my head straight. I need to focus.

She calls again. Jesse calls again. I don't answer.

I need to focus.

Sarah looks at the phone. Just leave it. Let it be. Leave it.

Then I'm thinking, I could tell them the truth.

Yes, I could tell them all about Jesse. All about future. Everything about John Connor. Everything about machines. Everything about me.

I could tell them the truth.

Really? I could?

I'm thinking, no, not really.

I grab the phone and leave.

I have to deal with this.

I need to focus.

Later John's already left for school. Cameron is not in the kitchen. Sarah is cleaning the table.

"Who was that?" She asks.

"A friend." I mumble trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

I know she's looking at me with questions but she doesn't say anything. I take a bite of a lonely pancake served in front of me. It's not actually bad at all. If you enjoy eating cardboard.

She sits down and looks at me. I try to chew and swallow like I mean it.

"Am I going crazy or is Cameron getting weirder?" She asks.

Chew and swallow.

I look at her, "Both."

"But we still need her."


	5. Running in Heels and Other Conversations

**Running in Heels and Other Conversations**

**Cliff Jones, the front desk guard  
**They came in through the front doors. Most of the employees had gone home already. I mean it was already late. I remember Carol from accounts bringing me coffee just before she left. She sometimes did that when she knew I was working the night shift.

The guy looked like trouble, you've been in this business long enough, you notice the type. The hair, the clothes, the attitude. No nonsense. The girl, twenty years old tops, with a red leather jacket. She was real pretty. But not in the conventional way. There was something about her that I couldn't quite grasp. The expression. Her eyes, they were dead. Behind them was this woman and this boy. And you could see that these people, they were trouble.

Bob was sitting behind the desk at that time. Watching the monitors. I had just finished my break. 15 minutes earlier or two minutes later I could've been the one lying on the floor dead. Makes you think. And don't get me wrong I knew Bob for a long time, but I'm glad it wasn't me.

You know I told all of this to the police already.

Well, they came to the desk and BAM, there's Bob, on the floor. Poor guy didn't see that coming.

I didn't have much time to react, it's not like these kind of situations come every day. But I had my gun ready and I was aiming at the guy. Yeah, the older one. But before I could pull the trigger, she was there, she was fast. Like a train coming at you. So I shot her. Or at least I think I did but I must've missed. And that's the last thing I remember. I woke up in the hospital a couple of days later. And that's about it. The rest I read from the paper.

**Susan White, a secretary  
**I was at my desk when I heard the gunshots. At first, I wasn't sure what they were, I mean, it's not like you hear gunshots every day. But I guess you still know - it's a very distinctive sound. You hear it on TV but it's nothing like hearing it for real. Anyways, there weren't a lot of people in the building, and I had no idea what to do. At first I thought it was a robbery or something. I grabbed the phone obviously, but the line was dead. What was I supposed to do? I looked around and I was the only one there! I thought of hiding in Mr. Harrison's office, it was empty behind me, but you know, I wouldn't dare entering without his permission. He was on the top floor, at a video conference so I just kept thinking that him finding me hiding behind his chair or something wouldn't be a good career move. You don't know him, but he's very strict on his personal space.

I was totally clueless. The floor was empty, the phone line was dead and you hear gunshots! I was freaking out. That's right about the time that Tim and Marcia came around. Marcia works in the second floor and she was pale. And I mean pale. Tim, he's a janitor here, he's worked here for ages.

It still gives me the chills. See how my hand still trembles. Just thinking about it. That was the most horrible night I've ever had. I was thinking why me, why now. You know I could have taken that job at Macy's. But no, I had to stay here. Such a job opportunity. Blah blah.

So Marcia whispers and I whisper. She's all like what the fuck is going on and Tim says he was cleaning the men's washroom when it happened. And he saw them. That it must be a robbery or something. And that's exactly what I was thinking! But then again, what's there to steal. It's not like we're working in a bank or something.

He said that there were two women and two men.

**Timothy Weston, a janitor  
**I was just cleaning the toilets, I do that every night. I do a couple of places downtown before coming here. The Harrison building has 12 floors, it takes a lot of time to go through them. There are a couple of us doing the job together but Carlos' kid had been sick that week so I was there alone.

So I hear this loud conversation. Like something's up. And I take a peek from the door and there's these people I've never seen before and two of them are holding guns towards the guard. And I can't quite make what they're saying. I'm just holding my breath, I mean, I have a mop in my hands, what am I supposed to do! If I come out they'll see me. I have a family for God's sake!

**Marcia Linn, junior accountant  
**This whole thing, it's very surreal. I mean I started smoking again. It was just… I don't even know where to begin.

Okay, so Tim, that's the janitor, can you believe we'd actually never met before this? So him and me, we find Susan White, that stupid blonde from one floor above mine hiding under her desk. Like a desk could really protect you? Seriously. And Tim is all "we can't go downstairs, we can't go downstairs", and I can see he's really upset, so we're thinking we'll just take the stairs (you know you're never supposed to take the elevator in situations like these) and go hiding in some random office. Lock ourselves in and wait till this thing blows out. Sure.

**Tim Weston  
**My first thoughts – this just isn't happening. My second thought – my wife is so going to kill me for not coming home in time.

It was all very sudden, I remember Mr. Jones, the other guard, coming from the back with his gun pointed at the older guy. And they're all pointing guns at each other and I'm thinking there's no way this is going to end well. Jones, he's all shaky and all over the place, I doubt he's even fired a gun before. The older woman, she's yelling that the guards should put their guns down and no one's gonna get hurt. It's all a big hassle and Mr. Jones fires. He shoots again and hits the girl, such a pretty young girl. She just… She just walks to him and throws him into the wall. I mean throws. Like he was a baseball and she was the pitcher.

**Marcia Linn  
**The three of us, we go one floor up. We're hearing fighting and gunshots, so we're moving up. There we meet Larry and Tom, they're both from my floor.

**Susan White  
**When we met Tom and the other guy, I was totally relieved. Tom was always such a nice guy, he came chatting whenever he had the time. He had this awesome smile. I really liked him but just for the record, nothing ever happened between us.

**Tim Weston  
**The minute we saw Mr. Wesker, it was like help had arrived. He's, well honestly, I don't know what he is, but he used to be a sort of a bodyguard for Mr. Harrison. He was always around when I saw him. But I rarely saw him. Scary looking man. Both of them.

**Susan White  
**And we're all so relieved to see him, I mean he's a big guy and has that mean look on his face. And he's not really chatty or anything but I've seen him in Mr. Harrison's office plenty of times. So I thought he was alright. I mean here we are, a janitor, Marcia and me and Tom and what's-his-name. It's not like we're the SWAT team.

**Marcia Linn  
**So Larry, that big idiot, he has to blow our cover and run like a baby to Wesker. And what happens? He grabs him by the throat. Lifts up and breaks his neck. Then he throws him through the whole fucking office. His body just hits these desks and computers. And he doesn't even blink.

The sound when someone's neck breaks. I mean. I can still hear it.

**Tim Weston  
**Then, right then, I ran.

**Marcia Linn  
**I don't think I've run like that since high school.

**Susan White  
**I'm not saying it wasn't awful but I mean, try running in heels!

**Tim Weston  
**And those stupid girls were slowing me and Tom. And I know we should stick together but with that Rambo behind us, hell, I'm gonna run and wait for nobody. Sorry guys but I've got kids. After I stopped to take a breath, they just weren't behind me anymore.

I'm not going to say I'm sorry. They would've done the same for me.

**Susan White  
**The woman, she said her name was Sarah and that she'd help us.

**Marcia Linn  
**We we're hiding in the dark copy room. She said to lock the door, but I saw that man throw that poor guy across the room. It's not like we're in Alcatraz or something! Like locking the door was gonna save us! She gave me a gun and I'd never held a gun before. She said to shoot if anybody came through the door. Anybody that wasn't her, that was.

**Tim Weston  
**I ran into the guy I saw in the lobby earlier. And that girl. Okay, they ran into me. I mean, I know they're the bad guys here, but there's this seriously bad ass dude with a semi-automatic rifle in the building snapping people's heads off just like that. It was all Alien vs. Predator. And I'm going with the winning team. Or the team that won't kill me. Just yet.

**Susan White  
**I don't know at which point the power went out.

**Marcia Linn  
**I don't know which was worse; seeing your coworkers dead on the corridor floor, their business suits and pen skirts stained with blood, or trusting these people who just might have killed them.

**Tim Weston  
**All cuts and bruises the guy looks at the girl and asks what her strategy is. She says, running away. We should find John and go. That's what she said. Word to word, I swear.

And seriously, I didn't find that too comforting. And I'm asking what the hell is going on. And you can't leave me here. He tells me to shut up. And they… They just ignore me.

She says there's too many variables. Whatever that's supposed to mean. She's saying they didn't know there would be machines involved. And that puts everyone at risk. And she says if this guy who they were looking for was there, he'd be long gone already.

And I'm thinking machines? What machines? And then I saw this weird thing. It's like this shiny little… metal plate… under her skin. Like she had an implant or something.

I'm not saying anything here! This is just what I THOUGHT I saw. And I was in a lot of stress.

**Marcia Linn  
**The funny thing about Wesker, I saw him getting shot a lot of times. I mean a lot of times. And he just… It was like the Dawn of the Dead but without the zombie make-up. He just kept going.

**Tim Weston  
**When we were running out of there we came across the fucking Rambo blasting his way through the walls. Literally. Through the walls. Not kidding here. Me behind the corner, they're blasting full rounds at him. And nothing happens. He just keeps on coming.

Finally she shoves Derek (I think that was his name) aside and tells us to run. And I don't have to be told twice.

No, I didn't catch her name. It's not like they introduced themselves. I don't think he even called her by her name.

**Susan White  
**It was really… really too Twilight Zone for me.

**Tim Weston  
**Yeah, she said "John". I'm guessing that's the younger guy. Why? Is that important?

**Marcia Linn  
**I think something blew up, this big explosion in the upper floor. I couldn't help but to think 9/11. This building falling on top of me. But it didn't. And then it was over. The cops came, we were taken to the hospital, the whole works. I'm just happy I'm alive.

No, they didn't catch them. Or Wesker either. They were gone. They were just gone.

**Susan White  
**The last thing I saw was the girl dragging that boy out of the building. Like he didn't want to leave or something.

Sarah? That other woman? No, I didn't see her leave.

**Tim Weston  
**The way I see it, they were after this guy and everything must've gone south.

**Susan White  
**The FBI agent already asked these questions.

**Marcia Linn  
**At first I thought everyone's gonna think I'm crazy. But that agent, he looked at me like he really understood. But everyone else, yeah, I don't like to talk about it.

Mind if I smoke?

**Susan White  
**Tom? I don't think he can tell you anything. He's still in the hospital, he hasn't woken up yet. I'm gonna go and visit him. Soon. ish. I mean this whole situation has been very overwhelming for me.

**Tim Weston  
**I'm just glad I'm alive. And that's about all I can tell you.

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_Author's Note: Sorry for the late update :) Thanks to everyone bothering to read this story :)_


	6. My Jagged Smile

**

* * *

My Jagged Smile**

"You lay a hand on me, you'll pull back a stump", I shudder and I'm lying on the floor swallowing my own blood. My jagged smile from one ear to another, I won't scream. I won't give them the satisfaction. And I won't let myself fall apart. I'm in one piece. I'm still in one piece.

"You're a tough little girl", he smiles and I can smell his breath. "You did an amazing job destroying my building."

The last thing I remember was being in the office building. Something catching on fire, then the explosion and then nothing.

All I'm thinking is "where's John".

There's nothing but a couple of thugs next to the doorway. Well, that's not nothing, but at least they're not made of metal. This filthy little room, empty and cold. Concrete floor scratching my face and arms and knees. A layer of dust everywhere. Someone once said that dust is only particles of human skin. Right now, I've made a heavy contribution to the dust layer in this room. At this pace, dust isn't the only thing I'll be donating. Find me soon enough and you'll get a free kidney, liver and a heart. Minus a couple bullet holes.

They say when you're hurting, you should think the times you hurt even more and it somehow helps. Remember when they dug out that bullet from your leg? How it hurt? Remember giving birth? How that hurt? Recall all the times you were hurting more than you're hurting now.

You know what, remember all you want, it doesn't take the pain away. Telling otherwise is just another form of self-deception. The pretty rainbow-colored lie. All the pain in the past, it doesn't make up for the pain right now. It still hurts. Like hell.

From your elbow to your wrist, there are two bones in your arm. Radius and ulna. You might fracture or break either or both. You hear them break but it takes a second before you feel it. It's like with lightnings, you see the flash and then count the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four. The thunder. And you know how far the storm is supposed to be. The sound can only travel so fast.

But I won't make a sound. My hand twisted under his boot, I'm thinking he just broke both of those bones.

He's the one we should've found last night. "Tell me, who you are and how did you find me?"

This big conspiracy theory. These big corporations all tied together. Not realizing they're digging their own grave. That they're being played. We have to find out who's playing them. And stop them.

"I looked you up in the phone book", I try to smile at him, "under 'evil bastard'."

He laughs, "Oh you're funny. But I must give you credit though. That was a good effort."

He leans forward, "It's a shame to kill such a pretty face."

"But you're just a little too good for your own good."

He turns to the thugs at the door, "Make sure no one finds her anytime soon." You hear the door close behind him.

I wait for the final punch, the extra hole in my head. The end of existence. I'm telling myself death is just part of life. It's nature's way of telling you you're not alive anymore. I'm already living on borrowed time. But still dying right now, that's just failing.

I can see Kyle next to me. The way he looked years and years ago. Reaching my hand and telling me to get up. Me saying I can't. I can't. I just can't. He's saying, get up for our son.

One of the men is walking towards me. My eyes closed I know his gun is pointed at me. I'm lying on the floor, barely breathing. Kyle holding my hand. Saying to get up. To fight. Your last breath, keep fighting.

Tibia and fibula are the two bones located in your leg below the knee cap. Fibula, the thinner one, is easier to break but you should know that out of these two, tibia is the weight bearing bone. Kick the tibia hard enough, the impact will transmit through the tissue all the way to the smaller bone. That's two birds with one stone. The extra chance you're taking.

Kyle is whispering, it will get better. You will survive. You will save our son.

Get up, please.

He's whispering, now, be too good for your own good.

I'm thinking in this line of work you're probably carrying more than one gun. Chances are the extra gun is either on the back of your belt or in the ankle holster. I'm hoping the latter.

With Kyle watching over me my body's moving on its own. The superhuman powers you get when your child is lying under a car. How you hear about these supermoms who lift the car high enough to pull their precious baby to safety. Later they have no idea what happened.

A strong single kick to the right bone and I have the gun from around his ankle before he hits the ground.

At 90 m/s the man's nerve cells are racing signals to his brain. At the same speed my body's telling me it can't take much more. But I already have the gun pointed at the man waiting in the doorway. No aiming needed Kyle helps me to pull the trigger. The bullet travelling at around 1000 meters per second, the sound only travels at 340 m/s. The shot is in the target before he even hears it. Then another shot.

These two men saying "goodbye life, hello death". Another layer of dust.

Kyle helps me to get up. Me, I'm walking past the bodies and inside me, I don't feel anything. How easy it is not to feel anything. To take a life and not feel guilty about it. Survival of the fittest.

I hear steps around the corner. I hear people in the corridors. People downstairs. These busy-bee workers hailing for the queen.

Me, bloody and beaten, I'm thinking that I'm an easy catch. Kyle smiles at my thoughts because in my head he can read my mind. "You think?"

In the empty washroom I look at my reflection in the mirror and wipe the blood from my face. Like many times before the blood vessels are being glued together to stop the bleeding. My body desperately trying to heal itself. The bloodstream bringing more and more cells to help. The process continuing during the next days. Cells producing collagen to make a temporary bandage. The collagen eventually remodeled to form a new layer of skin, leaving a scar. During the following year the skin strengthens, the scars fade. But still, once you've been hurt you never gain full recovery. From what your skin was before, it can only heal up to 80% of the original strength. That is, if you stay alive long enough.

Whatever happens to you, you can never really recover. You'll never be the same.

In one of the empty cubicles, I sit down and rest. Breathe. For the first time in a long time.

But I have to get out, I have to find John. I have to know he got out safely. But Kyle tells me to stop. That I will never get out on my own. I'm thinking that I will never get out alive. And he looks at me with concern in his eyes, "You will, just not on your own."Because in my head, he can read my mind.

He says, "He will come for you." And I ask, "Who?"

And he looks at me, "You already know. My brother will come for you. "

He looks at me with confidence, "You just have to have a little faith."


	7. Pokerface

**Pokerface**

Why were they there, I don't know. I know Derek hadn't answered my calls for days. I know he's hiding. He's hiding from me.

This old factory, they used to make microchips for cell-phones here. Until it came cheaper to outsource to a third world country. These 3G chips, they've made your phone into a computer. How safe it must feel to have a thing that's soon smarter than you are in your pocket. GPS will tell them where you are within meters, targeted ads for your comfort through the websites you've been to. If your Google-ads keep offering you hot dates in your area, you better think what websites you've visited. It's a simple algorithm. They know where you were and they're offering the most likely place for you to be. Recording every letter you hit on your PC keyboard, every song you listen to on your iPod, the integrated webcam on your laptop recording when you don't even realize it. Then suggesting the songs, websites, movies you'd probably like. The products you might be interested in. Just a click away. And that's all already happening. And we're letting it happen.

More than 20% of all cars on the road have a GPS navigation system. Making it easier for you. More and more there are malfunctions. But that's just statistics. No GPS navigator is out to get you. When it tells you to make a u-turn on the highway or take a right turn when there's no road to turn to, that's just a malfunction. Sometimes that happens, no one knows why. Over 10% of all car crashes are caused by a faulty navigator. People trusting a machine more than they trust themselves. But it's just statistics, no GPS navigator is trying to kill you. Not yet anyway.

This empty factory, except it's not empty. I watched trucks come and go, load and unload big containers. I'm resourceful like Derek, hell, I'm smarter than him and I didn't think they'd be here. The Connor family. Seeing them sneaking inside, I have to go inside too, just a little sooner than I thought. He's brought John with him. How nice. Special bonding time. And the machine.

I know who they are after, Derek came to me for help remember. I provided the information he needed. He says thank you and leaves. Me, sitting there looking stupid. Thanks for NOT sharing. But I have my own little secrets. And my own little motives.

I'm not here to stop the war, I'm here to win it. No matter what it takes. One machine at a time. Battle by battle. It disgusts me that the metal is right there so close to him. He should know better.

The machines, they're not only trying to kill the key members of the resistance. Their making the future happen for them. Gathering the resources to create their world. Making it possible. Even if we'd kill every person who ever contributed to the project evolving to Skynet, the machines could still build their army. They're already here doing just that. We can't stop them. Derek, he can't stop them. It's foolish to think otherwise.

The GPS navigators, cell-phones, iPods, laptops and computers they all have one thing in common: tantalum. That's a chemical element used for several things but widely acknowledged as an excellent metal for things requiring high performance. Due to its light weight and biocompatibility it's widely used in body implants and surgical instruments. Have your appendix removed and you'll get a first hand experience what tantalum feels like.

It's also the main ingredient of coltan. And that's what our metal friends are made of. And that's what's going on in the building right in front of me.

I don't quite know what Derek and John are doing here right now, but this is my battle. I'm having a little fun finally blowing something up. My private joyride to keep me occupied, get those busy thoughts out of my head. Except not very private now with them here. I have enough explosives with me to blow up the whole block, it won't stop them but it's a step in the right direction. Finally. This is what we should be doing, destroying them, not playing house with them.

Except things never go our way. At least not my way. Should've known by now.

You know how you're doing a supposedly easy job. You go in, you come out and then there's the big BOOM following. Yeah. Should've known, right?

At what point did everything go awry? I don't really know. Well, there's Derek shouting his face all red, telling me to go to all sorts of places. Except he's not shouting, not really. More like yelling without the sound. The TV on mute. And then me yelling at him, for being an asshole. Which he is by the way. Oh and we're both on mute because of the R2D2 following us. Not the girl but something similar. I didn't take notes.

I saw "Cameron", their little metallic whore. But I also met the mother and the son. Right now he doesn't know who I am. He doesn't look anything like he will look in the future. He looks like a kid. Seeing him with the machine, I'm thinking I must get that blonde working extra hours. Oh what a headache she's become.

Derek is almost carrying Sarah. She looks like a mess. Like she was hit by a truck. Twice. Maybe she was. I wouldn't know.

On the ground floor we set the explosives. Me and Derek. The good old days. John is looking after Sarah. And the metal is fighting her kind. Yeah, sure, it's useful in situations like these. But when you've seen one go haywire, blast through your mates leaving them gutted in the bunker walls, you're a bit cautious. But in a very healthy way I think. Scraping your friends off the walls, and literally 'scraping', that's a thing I wouldn't wanna do again.

Waiting outside we don't see the rest coming out. And you know there's the countdown. The tick tick ticking of the bombs. And I might say leave 'em. It's war. But it's John Connor up there. And I guess we have to get him. And Derek's already running to get them. And I'm running after him. But not because of John Connor.

Inside the building I'm screaming at him, that we have to go. Really have to go. Like right now.

And then Sarah and John get down to us but obviously I'm on crazy pills cause John is genuinely worried leaving that metal behind us. I'm screaming that if we stay here, we get blown up. And if we wait for her, we get blown up. And if we leave and run, we're probably still gonna get blown up! And I'm not trying to spoil the party here!

John, he refuses to leave. The stubborn piece of shit. Derek, he's shouting for Sarah to take John out. Or the other way around considering the shape she's in. And he's shouting at John not to worry. He's gonna make sure she gets out. He'll be right behind them. And I'm shouting at him that he is a fucking idiot. That he's gonna get killed because of some metal! And he's shouting he's gonna get out in time. Don't worry. Just get the hell out of here. And he's looking at me, like he is going to say what I want to hear but that would've been too much to ask anyways. He looks at me, but I can't read his pokerface. I can't call his bluff. And he runs to get her. Which is more than he ever did for me.

I'm counting there's a couple of minutes left and I'm not going to die here. I'm gonna leave this place in one piece, not in several pieces scattered around the walls. I'm not having someone scrape me off.

I'm running as fast as I can for the exits but I never get there. There, blocking my way, stands a tall man with most of his metal skeleton already visible. I know I can't stop him or get past him. I guess you can't always win. I pull out my gun. His eyes are burning red and they're the last thing I see.


	8. The Irony of Life

**The Irony Of Life**

Have patience. Don't quit. You don't always get what you want. But tough! That's life. Get over it. Yeah sure, you wanted to go to college, that didn't happen. You wanted to save your baby brother. You wanted a family, you wanted a life. Still, you don't see me quitting. If you don't succeed, that's not failing. If you don't get up the next morning and try again, that's failing. Never ever quit.

Be prepared. Check your guns. Always check your back. Be careful. Don't get trapped. Make a plan B. Hell, make a plan C and D while you're at it. Be ready.

Make sure you're with the people you trust. Make sure the people you trust don't get you killed.

Plan your escape. Leave the back door open. Sometimes you have to run. Make sure you have somewhere to run to. And then run. Like hell.

If you can't run then it's an honorable death. One for the team.

We're not heroes. We're just people. We laugh, cry and die. You have to remember that. We're just people.

After blowing up the factory, we're patching up our wounds. Stitches and bandages. The kitchen is our emergency room.

But the part in me that hurts the most, isn't the part that got hurt.

Sarah, she's asking questions. Who was the woman in the factory? Who was Jesse? Why am I keeping secrets? What else have I kept from them? And how I've put them at risk. And I yell her to shut up. But she won't. I should've told them what I've been up to. John was almost killed. We were all almost killed. And I know that and I shout that it's none of her business. She should shut her mouth. Jesse is none of her business. And she yells it's her business when I risk their safety. John's safety. And I shout I'm not the only one making mistakes here. Wanna talk about your mistakes, huh? John yells me to shut up. To fucking calm down.

The way they look at me, I think I scare them right now.

My head feels like it's going to explode.

On the back porch I'm breathing the night air. It's quiet and dark. She walks like the wind but I know she's there. I always do.

"Thank you." She says and sits next to me.

"You could've gotten out on your own. I did it for John." I try to sound as emotionless as possible.

"Yes. I probably could have." She answers.

"Now we're even." And now I owe her nothing.

If she was a person she would be smiling right now. The irony of life.

She looks at me, tilts her head like she would understand how I'm feeling." I'm sorry."

I look back at her. "For what?"

She's looking at the trees, at the darkness beyond the street lights. I know the look on her face. I have it too. It's desperation, it's loneliness. Not having a home, a safe place. Nowhere to hide. Always on the run. Under the night sky. Alone. A little broken inside.

My body scarred from too many fights, I don't care about the stitches, bruises, scars, broken ribs or the taste of my own blood in my mouth.

"Don't be. She was there because she wanted to be there. She is.. was a soldier. That's what we do."

Normally I'd tell her to leave or I'd leave myself. But right now we're just sitting. She's a machine and machines are the enemies. But I'm a human and we've killed more humans here than machines. Enemies fight against you, not beside you.

"How does it feel, to go against your kind?" I ask. "To fight your own?"

I notice her bare feet. She has her toes in the sand. It's chilly but I guess it doesn't matter to her.

"How does it feel to go against_ your_ kind?" She repeats and looks at me.

I almost smile. "You got that right."

"You think he's eventually gonna lead us?" I nod towards the house.

"I don't know." She says. "He has to. He just needs to understand what's important."

"Yeah." I kick off my shoes and sink my toes in to the sand. The ground is still warm below the surface.

"It's not easy to give up your life for others." She says quietly. "For one single purpose."

I'm reminding myself what it is I'm sitting next to. But with the world we're living in right now, somehow it seems irrelevant.

"I know." I try not to sound bitter. I hope John will never end up being bitter.

She looks at me and our eyes meet. "I know it too."

And for a while longer we're sitting there and I'm thinking how we're not that different after all.

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_Author's Note: A special thank you to my loyal reviewer ;) And yes, I have an unhealthy obsession with zombies, so Resident Evil got a little shout out here ;)) _


	9. Death and All the Other Things in Life

_Thanks for all the reviews: You actually made me re-read what it is I've written ;) _

_About the "last two lines", I sometimes do that, build a chapter around those last lines :) And I'll promise to work on the summary, I kinda suck at them ;)  
_

* * *

**Death And All The Other Things Life Has To Offer**

I'm sorry for a lot of things. But you must remember, whatever I did, I did it for my son. And I worry about him, I worry a lot. I know I won't always be there to look after him.

Every day I fear that tomorrow I will get sick. And then I will die. I probably won't live to see the Judgment Day. I don't know how time travelling works, I'm supposed to die of cancer. I don't think I can fool death by leaping through time.

I know, we live just inches away from death every day. But that's a fight where we can influence the outcome. Kick, scream, run or shoot. Cancer, I can do nothing about it. But to wait till it happens. In the meantime try to fix everything. Fast. Because it's always just around the corner. You never have enough time. So change things, fast. Save your son. Hurry, please.

It's ironic really. And it's realistic too. 25% of all deaths in the US due to cancer. Think about it. Every fourth person you meet gets cancer. One, two, three, cancer. People on the street, walking past you: one, two, three, cancer.

In a way I'm lucky I guess. Most people don't get to know until it happens. Most people don't get a two weeks notice. Most people get "watch out for that bus" and "splat".

I have a million things to do before the clock stops. Before the time is up. So I'm thinking I better hurry. Really, I don't have a million things to do. I just have two things. Number 1: Save your son. Number 2: save the world so your son doesn't have to.

Strike that, three things. Number 3: let John know you love him more than anything.

Still if you don't know you're going to die, everyday you trust the future. Every day you're not scared. Every day you don't think about death. You think about life.

* * *

Me, cleaning my gun, almost blowing my brains out, that was an accident. That girl, jumping off the roof, that wasn't an accident. Riley slitting her wrists on our bathroom floor, that wasn't an accident.

I've killed a man. I'm responsible for a lot of deaths.

Me with the gun. It was an accident. I promise. Accidents are like that, that's why they're called accidents.

I don't know if the girl on the roof really wanted to jump. Maybe she just felt hopeless. That things would never get better. Maybe she wanted to give up. At least for a little while. To keep her eyes closed a little longer. Maybe she thought the future was empty for her. Nothing good was waiting for her. She could never do enough, be enough. She can't change her life. Everything that happens, happens and she is left standing outside alone. And at first it was an ending that she didn't think seriously. Just a thought that came and went. Until it kept getting worse. Every moment of happiness unnoticed and just one setback after another. It was like a game just thinking about it. A coping mechanism. How none of this would matter anymore. The ultimate leap. Maybe it even made her smile a little. This all wiped away. Blank slate. A small step for mankind but a huge step for her. Houston, we're having problems here.

I don't really know how she felt, I'm just guessing here.

No one did anything. I didn't do anything.

About Riley, I really, really, really, should've done something. I should've seen something. Coping two lives, I can't control both of them. I can't be John Baum and John Connor at the same time. I want to be there for her, I want her to be there for me too. On the other hand I don't want to let people around me down. If future depends on me, me choosing not to take responsibility, that means no future for anyone. Mom, Derek and Cameron, they're expecting a lot from me.

A leader can't lead if he doesn't know which way to go.

I just have to know which way to go.

* * *

There's a 12% chance I will malfunction today. There's a 17% chance I will malfunction tomorrow.

I've become my own enemy. I exist to save John but there's a good chance I will get him killed. There's a good chance I will kill him. So is it better for me not to exist or to exist?

Right now, it all goes down to numbers. Probabilities. How long it takes before I become too much a risk?

How would you feel if the biggest problem in your life was, well… You?

In a way I'm glad I'm still here. I'm here. I'm awake.

I feel the sun and the wind. I feel the rain. I feel the cold. I never get tired but I do get frustrated. Sometimes I don't know what to do. I don't know all the answers. I'm not God.

They don't always get that. They don't know how I work.

I'm the risk John shouldn't have taken.

But I'm still pleased to be here.

I'm not okay. I don't know what's wrong. I don't know all the answers. I really can't fix me. I'm too damaged to do that. I can't run a test to get better.

I'm a ticking bomb. I'm a disease eating myself. My head says "I don't wanna go", but I know that eventually I'll have to. Eventually I'll fail this mission.

And I'm already sorry for that.

* * *

I think death is not honorable. Never. It's just death.

I've seen soldiers die in the battle field. Many times. For our future.

There's no glory in dying.

In the end, death is just death.

And I don't wanna die. Not today.


	10. It Ain't Over Till it's Over

**It Ain't Over Till it's Over**

Sarah sits next to me while I'm driving. We're looking for a truck gone missing somewhere in the desert. A truck load of coltan, we're thinking it's hidden somewhere in a small nameless town near the Mexican border. The next step. We go on. We have to.

I'm thinking she's gone through a lot. I'm thinking we've all gone through a lot. But you can't stop, no you can't. You have to keep on going. Till it's over. And it won't be over. Not today.

John, sitting on the back seat, he's not a child anymore. I know he understands. In the end, he will be the leader we desperately need. He'll have to give up a lot and he will. But he will not be alone. He will never be alone. We will be there to fight with him.

The metal is sitting beside him and I don't hate her as much as I did. Not anymore. I know she's saved us, including me, too many times. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, she's part of the team. She's on our side. I'm thinking, she's part of us. And we're not best friends and we never will be. But we're even now.

When this is over, she's gonna have to go. The machines have to go. All of them. None can survive. Maybe John gets that, maybe he doesn't. Yet. But he will. I pray to God that we all survive. But she can't. She has to die. When this is over she'll close her eyes and she can never open them again. Never. But this is not over, not today. And I see her through the rearview mirror and I say to myself, not today.

* * *

With fake names and fake lives, I'm almost like Clark Kent. I'm the geeky loser going unnoticed by everyone, trying to be as invisible as I can. But I'm also the big savior in blue tights and red cape. I have to step up, I have to be a man. I have to save everyone.

I'd like to know how my life would turn out. If I lost the cape and never learned how to fly. I'd go to school, and I'd hate it like everyone else. I'd skip classes but still graduate, and I'd make mom proud. I would be a nobody, I wouldn't have to look over my shoulder every day. When someone recognizes me, I wouldn't have to run. I'd finally feel safe.

Would that be how it would turn out? If I choose the other life? What would it be like?

* * *

I try not to think of Jesse. There's a black hole inside me. Sucking all the energy in me. So I don't think about her and it gets better. The emotions, I'll deal with them later. When this is over. And it's not over, not today.

Things don't always end the way they're supposed to. We don't always succeed. We're not heroes. Sometimes I wish I could tell John that. That he doesn't have to be a superman. He doesn't have to save mankind. He doesn't have to lead the war.

But I can't tell him that. That is exactly what he has to do.

We won't give up. We'll get up and try again. And we keep trying. Because that's the only thing we can do.

* * *

If I step on the road to hell, to the future and to the war, I fear I'll lose myself. Eventually, day by day, there's just someone looking like me, flying alone in the sky. But he's not me. He just looks like me.

Up, up and away.

She says in the future I have many friends. But she also says that it will be lonely being me. I don't know which one is true, sometimes she lies to me.

I don't want to end up fighting the windmills. And when I turn around I'm the only one there. I don't want to end up being alone.

The problem with the future is that you don't know what is going happen. Anything I do to change it, I don't really know the outcome. It could go either way, good or bad. I only know how my life is now.

The ordinary, the normal, the boring. It might just be an illusion. I don't know, I've never been there.

The machines, the war, death. The road I've chosen in another life. I don't know that either. I've never been there.

How am I supposed to know which way to go?

* * *

I don't know how we'll know when we've done enough. When we've changed the future enough. I guess we'll just have to do our best every single day. But I'm sure somehow everything will make sense one day. The clarity will define us, we'll wake up to a new day. And we'll know.

* * *

There's only one ending to this story. One road, one life.

Whichever you choose, you'll always wonder. What if. What would've happened. What was at the end of that other life. What is at the end of this life?

Heaven? Hell?

What would have happened to Clark Kent if he didn't have to fly. If he could just go home and live his life. Would he have been happy?

Would he have been happy knowing how many lives weren't saved because he wasn't there?

* * *

This is the life we've chosen. The road we're on. There's no turning back.

* * *

I think it takes a lot of courage to take the first steps. To let go of the hopes and dreams you might have kept alive in your mind. Not to kill them, not to bury them but just let go of them. Let them fly away. Maybe to another lifetime.

I will make a path for the others to follow.

And right this moment, in this very car, we're driving towards the future. This is my life. Right now.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read + review the story :) It really keeps you going knowing that you're not just writing to yourself (and even if you were, you still have enough courage to publish whatever you've managed to get down on paper). This was a fun story to write and I'm glad I could share this with you :) _


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